


As It Was

by unfortunate17



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, a drabble series for my two dumb sons, a lot of these will be from Tumblr prompts and therefore repeats, and their love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28084422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfortunate17/pseuds/unfortunate17
Summary: Obi-Wan and Anakin have thousands of love stories. These are some of them.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 13
Kudos: 117





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: E 
> 
> Summary: Anakin is so used to his Master's dirty talk, he's not sure how to feel in it's absence. Inspired by the folks on the Obikin discord.
> 
> Please accept this as an apology for not posting the last chapter of To Eden, for some reason it's been really hard to wrap up all the loose threads.

Anakin’s never been good at reading situations. Never had a keen eye for emotional distress or a knack for understanding when Obi-Wan needed time for himself.

Perhaps it stemmed from the simple fact that Obi-Wan so rarely shut Anakin out anymore. The two of them were twined together in the force, bone deep bond pulling together two opposing psyches. Anakin’s hailstorm and Obi-Wan’s steady spring showers.

Nevertheless, he’d known it was bad.

Ahsoka had looked at him across the holomaps as Obi-Wan stalked out of the room, robes sweeping behind him in finality.

“You know,” she had said wryly, “I really don’t know how he tolerates you sometimes.”

And Anakin had -

He’d lashed out of course. Told Ahsoka in too many words that it was well past her bedtime, and that she was overstepping boundaries.

Ahsoka had only regarded him steadily, the same searching gaze that Obi-Wan pinned Anakin with when he was upset. It set his teeth on edge, made his insides twist with barely contained fear.

He’d gone after Obi-Wan of course, for Anakin never could let sleeping beasts lie untouched.

The ship’s filtration system hummed steadily around him, dim night lighting guiding his way to the small quarters Obi-Wan had claimed at the beginning of the campaign.

“Please,” he had begged, “don’t make me sleep alone.”

And finally, when that had failed to illicit a response -

“I’m sorry, Master.”

When the door slid open, Obi-wan’s face was drawn tight, warring against emotion that threatened to swallow his features.

“Anakin,” his voice had cracked but once, “when I ask not to be disturbed, I would prefer it if - “

“Please.”

And Obi-Wan stepped aside, allowed Anakin inside. Allowed Anakin into his bed, his heart, allowed him to rock down on him in desperation, a litany of pleas falling from his lips as he clung to Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

Obi-Wan had simply watched him, face impassive even if his force signature ran alight with pleasure.

Anakin grinds down on him with increased ferocity, clawing at his bare back. “Master,” he gasps into the stony silence. “Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan’s hands are gentle where they smooth down his back. His eyes are as deep as Mon Calamari’s oceans. “Anakin.”

Anakin feels the sob rising in his chest even as the pleasure builds unwillingly. He’s been told not to solve problems with sex, but Obi-Wan had allowed this, he’d allowed himself to be sat on the bed, allowed Anakin to throw his knees on either side of his hips.

“Please,” he begs, “Master, please. I need - “

He feels the grip on his back tighten, a sharp upward movement of Obi-Wan’s hips that leaves his cock snugged up against Anakin’s prostate.

And yet -

“Please,” Anakin begs again, his voice loud in the echoing durasteel walls. “I’m - I’m sorry - I swear, Master. I’m so sorry.”

He feels Obi-Wan exhale sharply beneath his arms, a loud sound like he’d just had the air punched out of him. “And why are you sorry, Anakin?”

He grinds his hips long enough to send a shower of sparks down Anakin’s spine.

“I - “ Anakin gasps wetly, “for hurting you. For using my anger as a weapon.”

Obi-Wan hums. His fingers are bruising where they grip Anakin’s hips.

Anakin waits, but no more words come. Tears prick the corners of his eyes as he clenches around the hard press of Obi-Wan in him. “Tell me,” he begs against Obi-Wan’s hairline, “Talk to me, Master - “

“Tell you what, Anakin?”

Anakin swallows his tongue, feels sweat gather in the crease behind his knees. His cock bobs, as neglected as Anakin feels.

“Anything,” he cries, biting back the anguish, “Tell me - tell me how good I feel around you, that I was made to take your cock, that - that - “

He feels Obi-Wan’s gentle encouragement in the force.

Obi-Wan holds him down now, hips pulsing minutely into him with no rhythm. It’s maddening and not enough all at once, keeps Anakin on the edge of pleasure and disaster.

Anakin swallows, finds Obi-Wan’s hand and slides it down to where they’re connected. “Tell me how _lucky_ I am to have you, how - how good I am. Call me darling, _anything_.”

He stutters, scrabbling against sanity as Obi-Wan’s finger presses against his stretched rim, teasing, threatening -

“Oh, my love,” Obi-Wan’s voice is smooth, like the sound of first rainfall after a parched eternity. Anakin feels a sharp slap against his left cheek, the skin stinging from the impact. “Stand up and turn around for me, darling. Let’s see how sorry you really are.”

And Anakin knows that he’s already forgiven.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rating: T
> 
> Summary: Customary post-Deception arc angst. Inspired by a prompt given to me by the lovely, incredibly talented Izazov on Tumblr. (yes this is absolutely a crosspost, I apologize, but figured more of you would find it here to enjoy)

Anakin brings him home from a sub-surface level bar six weeks after Obi-Wan returns from Naboo. Obi-Wan has already had a few too many drinks, wallowing in his misery. Even the bartender-bot had started to look at him with pity.

It’s more than he can say for Anakin.

Anakin simply pulls him into a speeder without so much as a glance, deposits him into his refresher, and shoves him into bed once he’s sure Obi-Wan’s not going to retch or hurt himself. There’s a calculated coldness to his actions, all of Anakin’s usual playfulness has all but vanished. Much like his possessions from their quarters.

He still remembers that morning clearly. He’d leaned over to drop a hasty kiss on Anakin’s cheek, already late for his morning meeting, when Anakin had bristled uncomfortably. Obi-Wan had looked at him with an unspoken question spelled out on his tongue, but Anakin had only shrugged, mumbled something about how weird it was seeing Obi-Wan without his usual facial hair.

By the time he’d returned, Anakin had been gone. His tools and droid parts and clothes nowhere to be found. Ahsoka hadn’t been able to look him in the eyes when Obi-Wan had asked her about him.

Now, for a moment, the two of them regard each other. Anakin looks tired, the area under his eyes smeared dark, skin pallid like he hadn’t been sleeping. The sight sends a pang through Obi-Wan and without thought, he reaches out to draw Anakin close.

Anakin flinches away immediately. “I’ve brought you home like Master Windu asked,” he says stiffly, “I’ll be going now.”

Obi-Wan watches him shuffle, ice spreading steadily in his veins. The anger, he had been expecting, but never this stony silence. Truthfully, he’d take anything, any outburst, if it only meant Anakin would look at him again with something other than steely blankness.

He reaches out to catch one of Anakin’s hands. If Obi-Wan had been sober, he’d have probably lost his nerve by now, but alcohol has always made him far braver than he should be. He drags Anakin down until he’s kneeling between the V of his knees and presses a hand against the sharp cut of his jaw. They’re eye-level now, even if Anakin isn’t looking at him.

“Come by for breakfast tomorrow, my dear,” he murmurs gently. “I’ll make flatckaes.”

“I’m a better cook than you.”

“Perhaps after then,” Obi-Wan swallows. “I’ve missed spending time with you. We can do whatever you’d like,” he attempts a cracked smile, “I won’t even make you meditate.”

Anakin doesn’t raise his eyes from where he’s fixed them on the floor, but Obi-Wan feels his jaw work tightly under his fingers. “I’m training with Ahsoka tomorrow morning.”

“At night then,” Obi-Wan tries, biting back an unexpected sob, “maybe we could – catch a holodrama?”

“I can’t. I promised Padmé I’d see her.”

“Afterwards?”

Anakin lets out a long rush of air. “Obi-Wan – ”

The tone makes Obi-Wan flinch. He looks at Anakin, slides his hand upwards, past the smooth skin of his cheekbones, and up into his lovely tangle of golden hair. He tries to memories the curve of Anakin’s mouth, the furrow of his brow. Thinks of the way Anakin’s eyes used to light up at the very sight of him.

“The day after then,” Obi-Wan whispers. He leans in to kiss him, the motion nearly unconscious, but Anakin startles backwards once more.

Obi-Wan isn’t proud of the sound that escapes him. It’s a broken thing, punched out of his sternum, almost a whimper. He tightens his hold on Anakin when he tries to stand. “Anakin, please,” he begs. The whiskey makes his tongue thick, the words difficult to shape in his mouth.

Anakin allows his grip, sits back down. He squeezes his eyes shut, pained, and Obi-Wan’s heart hammers at the thought of causing it.

It was really only a few weeks ago that they were pressed together in this very bed, Anakin laughing into his neck, rubbing cold feet into his shins. The notion is unthinkable somehow, makes Obi-Wan ache.

Now, there is only silence.

Obi-Wan clears his throat, and the sound is loud, a cacophony in a moment in which even the force dares not to breathe. He’s not pleased with the words that fall out of him next, but Obi-Wan can’t quite hold them back.

“When did you stop loving me?” he asks, then immediately regrets it. Obi-Wan doesn’t want an answer, not truly.

At this, Anakin’s gaze snaps back up to him. He looks even more tired now, face drawn. But his eyes still widen in what Obi-Wan thinks is shock. Or maybe surprise.

Obi-Wan waits, but Anakin doesn’t speak, providing no justification or answers. He simply sits back on his haunches and looks miserable, put-out. His shoulders are bent under a weight that he should never have to carry. Obi-Wan grits his teeth against the knowledge that he’s somehow added to it.

Finally, Anakin sighs. “I should go.”

Obi-Wan settles his free hand over Anakin’s cheek, brushes a thumb over a lovely cheekbone. “Please don’t.”

Anakin allows the motion, but his brows furrow in what Obi-Wan knows is anger. “Why not?” he snaps. And finally, _finally_ , there’s anger. A dark corner of Obi-Wan’s mind relishes having Anakin’s attention again. “I thought you were dead. I mourned you, Obi-Wan. You knew how I felt about you and you used it against me to sell your act. I would’ve done _anything_ for you, Master. I would’ve died for you and you didn’t even care.”

“It was a poor decision,” Obi-Wan admits miserably. “I cannot tell you how much I regret it.”

“You’re only sorry because I’m upset,” Anakin snarls in response, “because I’m no longer in your bed. You came back and tried to pretend like nothing was wrong. Like what you did didn’t even matter.”

The sheer depths of his failures are difficult to consider for too long. Obi-Wan’s throat hurts. The force reveals nothing, empty and cold as it is, his connection whiskey-dulled.

And really, Anakin is right.

What does Obi-Wan’s apology even mean? Obi-Wan, who has always kept his emotions close to his chest, guarded, even when Anakin had expressed his desire for more, asked for something as simply given as verbal reassurance. He’d spent so long working through his own feelings, his own struggles, that Obi-Wan has never stopped to think that perhaps one day, Anakin might no longer be interested in waiting.

“That’s not true Anakin,” he insists, bringing Anakin close. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

Anakin resists. Obi-Wan watches him, desperation rising with every breath. He thinks of never _really_ seeing Anakin again, of being alone in these wretched quarters. Thinks of watching Anakin with another, someone far more worthy, who would never dream of betraying or hurting him.

Even more horrifyingly, Obi-Wan thinks of someone in his own place. Of someone basking in the warmth of Anakin’s love, his fierce loyalty, enjoying the gentleness of his hands, the curve of his spine in bed.

Obi-Wan is going to be sick.

Tears glob in his throat, splinter at the corner of his eyes. The burn of alcohol in his veins is waning now, a chill settling in his bones. “Will you ever love me again?” he asks at last.

The ensuing silence is enough to make Obi-Wan’s vision go blurry with tears.

Anakin’s posture doesn’t soften, but emotion ripples across his face. Obi-Wan watches the line of his throat as he swallows, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Obi-Wan,” his voice is tight, “ _gods,_ please don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan offers again. He forces himself to let go of Anakin then, even if he can’t help but trace his shoulders one last time. Obi-Wan rakes his eyes over Anakin’s face, the softness of his features, the brightness of his eyes. “I love you,” he presses a fist to his mouth, trembling, “You will always be the single most important – “

“Stop,” Anakin says. His mouth twists unhappily and he leans forward, tucking his forehead into Obi-Wan’s chest. His voice is muffled now. “Please. I can’t bear to see you like this, Master.”

Obi-Wan heaves in response, shivering. He cups the back of Anakin’s head, rubs at the nape of his neck gently. Tries to pour what he can never express into what remains of their bond.

Anakin shakes his head once, the motion decisive, before he leans back and maneuvers Obi-Wan into bed. The world spins for a moment as Obi-Wan’s head settles into the pillow. He wants to say more, but he’s not sure if he has any words of value left.

But then Anakin is climbing into bed beside him, folding around him. He thumbs clumsily at the wetness on Obi-Wans cheeks even as Obi-Wan clings to him like he might vanish at any moment.

“I was angry,” Anakin admits quietly, words trembling on a shaky breath. He rubs Obi-Wan’s back, tucks his face into his neck. “But I didn’t want to hurt you like this. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, my love.”

“ _No_ ,” Anakin holds him tighter. He kisses Obi-Wan’s head. “You’ve always taught me not to seek revenge. What I’ve done is – this isn’t what I wanted.”

“Anakin – ”

Anakin shushes him, pulling the blanket up around the both of them. His chest trembles. “Sleep, Master. We’ll talk more about this in the morning.”

Obi-Wan curls an arm around him, tries to calm his racing heart. “You’ll stay?”

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a catch-all that will be updated semi-randomly with all the short things that are too insignificant to be posted on their own, but too significant to stop existing in my mind. ❤️


End file.
